


Over the Stars and Far Away

by teaposing



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, F/M, background ashedue, background implied netteflix, referenced hanneman/manuela
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaposing/pseuds/teaposing
Summary: A thousand years ago, Byleth knew who she was: a captain, a soldier, a weapon. Waking from stasis to find herself on a ragtag civilian ship, the war long-won, she reconsiders.
Relationships: Blue Lions Students & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth & Sothis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. Unmoored

**Author's Note:**

> heavily inspired by ancillary justice by ann leckie (a fantastic book that i'd absolutely recommend if you like scifi!).
> 
> title is from ursula k le guin's "vaster than empires and more slow"

There was smoke in the air and Seteth was issuing frantic orders, and though Byleth’s mind was clear there was nothing to make sense of in the chaos of the attack. The ship had taken critical damage: that was the gist of Seteth’s shouting, and she would have known anyway from Sothis’ silence. She had never left her alone during battle before. Distantly, Byleth wondered if she was about to die.

 _Captain_ , Seteth was saying, and _save yourself_ , and he was pushing Byleth into an escape pod as Sothis’ voice stuttered in her mind. Then she was launched far away, and before she fell into the pod’s suspension she saw her ship, alight like a phoenix against the endless black.

.

Then she woke up.

She was submerged in the viscous fluid of the pod; it was cold, and profoundly unpleasant, but she ignored a small spark of panic and pushed herself into a sitting position. For a moment, she disregarded her surroundings and reached deep into her own mind, looking for the other part of her.

 _Sothis_ , she called, and her ship responded. 

_I’m here._

She opened her eyes to a cramped med bay. A blonde medic crouched next to the pod, her hand resting tentatively on Byleth’s shoulder and her face telegraphing a gentle, surprised concern. It was common knowledge that people waking from suspension were usually not nearly this composed. She had surely expected panic, at the very least. 

When it was clear that Byleth was not going to start screaming, the sandy-haired medic smiled gently.

“Welcome aboard.” Her voice was soft and breathy and entirely unlike the brusque medical officers Byleth had known. “I know it’s probably a terrible shock, to be woken up like this… are you all right?” 

She considered the question for a moment. She was singed, parts of her uniform blackened with soot, but she hadn’t been injured in the attack and she felt no pain. 

“I am.” Byleth finally glanced around the bay she had woken up in; there was barely enough space to fit the suspension pod, and though the room was sterile it was obviously not a military ward. “Where are we? Is this a cargo ship?”

The woman shook her head gently. “Search and rescue. A group of hunters found your pod, and well… waking up from suspension can be tricky, sometimes. So they called us in.” Her expression shifted, her voice softening. “Do you remember anything?”

“A battle,” Byleth murmured. “My lieutenant saved me.”

The medic’s eyes roved over Byleth, taking in her ruined uniform. “I’ll check you for injuries, and then you can rinse off while I go get you some new clothes,” she said kindly, carefully. “After that, you can speak with the captain… I’m sure he’ll answer any questions you have.”

.

The suspension pod’s fluid had sluiced right off without clinging to her skin or wetting her uniform, leaving only a thin film that washed away easily under the trickle of warm water coming from the showerhead. This ship—and it was a ship, the medic had confirmed that—was far more luxurious than hers.

 _Sorry, Sothis,_ she thought belatedly.

Sothis scoffed from her place deep in Byleth’s mind. “For all intents and purposes, you were the ship, too. Don’t look at _me_.”

They both fell silent. 

_Are we…_

Sothis’ voice was quieter than normal, and kinder, when she responded. “Yes. The other part of me is gone… I can feel it.” She paused for a second, sadness tingeing the normal petulant sharpness of her voice. “You’re our only body now.”

Byleth stood under the heat of the shower for a long moment without speaking. There was nothing to say, really, to the AI who shared her mind. There had been no resentment in Sothis’ voice, only grief, and they both knew there was no retrieving their lost ship. 

The warmth really was incredibly pleasant after her long sleep in the pod, and she wondered who was backing them, to have access to such a luxurious ship.

“I bet they’re smugglers,” Sothis said flippantly.

_She seemed so kind, though. Not like a criminal. And she saved us._

“I didn’t say they were evil. Who knows what they’re transporting. Maybe they’re just doing what they can to get by.”

Byleth made an ambivalent gesture and stretched experimentally. Her muscles were still stiff from the pod.

She wondered how long she had been sleeping.

.

The ship’s captain looked exhausted and unkempt, but there was something stately about him, an air that Byleth associated with the generals and commanders she had known. He folded his hands together tensely as she walked in with the ship’s medic, who had since introduced herself as Mercedes.

“Dimitri,” Mercedes greeted, her tone kind but uncommonly casual. No part of this ship, and its crew, matched any kind of vessel Byleth had ever heard of. 

_Smugglers_ , Sothis grumbled silently.

“My name is Byleth Eisner,” she said without preamble, pitching her voice crisp and businesslike. “I was a captain on the starship Sothis. We were attacked, and my lieutenant got me into an escape pod. If it’s possible, I’d ask you to take me to the nearest station where I could contact any surviving crew members.” 

The captain’s eyes darted across the room. He was nervous, for some reason Byleth couldn’t begin to pinpoint, and when she made eye contact he broke it immediately. 

He had only one eye. It struck her as important, briefly.

“I’m... afraid not,” he said shortly. “I’m sorry.” 

Byleth frowned minutely. “What? Could I speak to your ship, please?”

“That’s not possible,” the captain responded.

Mercedes cut in, her voice gentle and direct. “Byleth, this isn’t an easy thing to hear, but...”

“It’s imperial year 1185,” Dimitri said, looking away, when it was clear the medic was unable to finish her sentence.

They must have recognized her uniform, known her to be a soldier in an ancient war. Of course they had been nervous to address her.

"I'm sorry," Mercedes whispered.

It didn’t hit Byleth with the shock they had no doubt expected; she had known of the possibility when she had awoken, and it explained the subtle differences she now saw everywhere. The cut of their clothing, the make of the ship. 

Still, she felt a flat ache in some underdeveloped part of her heart. Everything she had known was gone.

She felt Sothis’ presence in her mind, solid and comforting. 

Sothis was here, but Sothis was a piece of her, not something that could ever be separated. Everything that could be taken away had been.

“Your ship…” She trailed off. In truth, she didn’t know what she was asking, but she needed some form of bearing if she was going to live in this new world.

“I can’t speak to her.” The captain seemed hesitant to answer; he and Mercedes were still eyeing her nervously, apparently still under the impression that she would break under pressure. “We don’t do that anymore.”

Byleth considered helming a ship that wasn’t alive and part of her. She couldn’t quite imagine it, not when she and Sothis were so intertwined. She considered what it would be like not to be a weapon.

It was why, she concluded, Dimitri looked so ragged: that unappealing sense of blindness. He was commanding something he could not fully understand, much less control, subject to the whims of his own mind without the solidity of an AI to guide him.

She shook away the thought for now.

“In that case, I’ll speak with you.” She met Dimitri’s eye head-on; his expression was uneasy but he didn’t glance away. “I’d like to stay aboard.”

The captain’s eye widened almost imperceptibly, but she continued, voice steady. “I’m a soldier, and I can offer your ship my protection as a mercenary.”

He shook his head. “We can drop you off at a nearby station where you can find work.” 

“I’m a good fighter,” she pressed. She wasn’t keen on trying to navigate a new life on some faraway station. She’d lived her whole life on a warship a thousand years ago; she assumed it wouldn’t translate well.

She watched unblinking as the captain raised his eye to hers, his gaze steady and unguarded. He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Their meanings may have evaded her, but she could tell he was remarkably transparent with his emotions. 

“You’d truly want to stay aboard?” His voice was tinged with doubt.

“My loyalties are to a crew that no longer exists,” she said plainly. “And… the world I know no longer exists either. I don’t know what to expect, and staying aboard your ship seems to me to be the best option. You’ve been very kind to me,” she admitted.

He gave her a small, puzzling smile. “We can take you on as another crew member, I suppose, if that’s what you wish. There’s… not much overlap with being helming a military ship, I’m afraid.” 

She studied him -- the conspicuous patch over his face, the heavy black coat he wore in spite of the room’s heat, the tired, earnest cast of his eye -- and felt her mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile. “Yes, I suppose so.”


	2. Peacetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick heads-up about content: suggestive humor (sylvain) and language (sylvain, again)

Mercedes led Byleth back to the infirmary, flashing her a reassuring smile before flitting away through a doorway Byleth assumed led to the medic’s personal quarters. She emerged a few minutes later holding a bundle of clothes she promptly handed off to Byleth.

“Those should fit you,” she said in her kind voice. “I’m afraid your clothes may be a little too scorched to wear again.” She frowned, then brightened. “Oh! Maybe we can help you buy some new clothes when we stop to refuel!” 

“Thank you,” Byleth said. Mercedes was earnest but clearly leading up to something. She waited. Mercedes fidgeted with the ends of her shawl and drew in a breath.

“Byleth,” she started. “Before, you said you were a captain… Does that mean you were a vessel?”

“Yes.” 

“Goodness,” she said. “Oh! I didn’t mean to insult you,” she added hastily. “It’s just that there haven’t been vessels for a very long time.”

Byleth didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m sorry to pry,” Mercedes said after a moment. “It won’t be a problem; please don’t worry. The crew are very accepting.”

“Accepting,” Byleth repeated. She hadn’t even considered their reactions. After a thousand years it only made sense that they would find her strange, but it still baffled her. 

“Shall I show you to a bunk?” Mercedes asked, a smile in her voice.

.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain said flatly. Byleth considered him briefly, taking a bite of soup. She wasn’t entirely sure what role he filled on the ship. He hadn’t introduced himself with his position like the other crew members; she might have assumed him to be some sort of communications officer, on any other ship, but she had no conception of how this one worked.

All the others had been polite and reticent towards her, and not one had mentioned Sothis or the war. Sylvain was the exception; it was not refreshing.

He barreled on, unfazed by her silence. “Seiros’ Crusade?” His expression was on some strange knife-edge of scandalized and gleeful. “That’s… fuck. Seiros’ Crusade.” 

Next to Byleth, Ingrid scowled. She was a handsome woman with smooth blonde hair and a capable manner. Byleth liked her immediately.

“Sylvain,” she snapped. “Don’t interrogate her.” 

He waved his hands animatedly in Byleth’s direction. “It’s just… it’s incredible. Right out of a fable.” He grinned, wolfish and bright. “History, right here on our ship.”

“I was a soldier,” Byleth said blankly. “It’s not that exciting.” There was something searching in his tone, all his interactions with her. She didn’t like it.

“Enough,” Ingrid said before Sylvain opened his mouth. He raised his hands in mock defeat. 

“Sorry, Byleth,” he said with a sheepish smile. It looked genuine enough, she allowed. “Got carried away.” 

“So, uh, what’s it like, you and your ship?” he said finally. “I’ve been wondering, you know, is she always there? _Always?_ ” he waggled his eyebrows with a bawdy smirk. “For me, that’d be a problem, but if you’re into it I can see—”

“Sylvain,” Ingrid said evenly without looking at him, “I will throw you into the vacuum of space.”

Byleth turned her attention back to her soup. The rest of the conversation didn’t seem promising. To her credit, Sothis just snickered and started to throw out a series of increasingly insulting— and very, very lewd— retorts to Sylvain’s quip, none of them quite appropriate to say in front of two people who could reasonably boot her off their ship. 

She’d been on board for a day or so, though time felt strange and lethargic after so long asleep. Mercedes had scrounged up a bunk for her to stay in and introduced her to the crew. They counted eight, and there was an easy familiarity between them, even towards their stiffly polite captain. 

The ship was endearing, and strange, and utterly not a place she belonged.

“Did the captain tell you where we’re headed?” Ingrid asked, bringing her back to the present. Byleth shook her head and Ingrid frowned, something unreadably complex in the expression. “Well. We’re going to dock on a planet in a few days, just to refuel and stock up on equipment and supplies. It’s been a while.” She paused. “Did he really not tell you? I would think, since you’re a new crew member, that would be important… did he at least explain to you what we do?”

“Mercedes did,” Byleth answered. She couldn’t place the cause of Ingrid’s furrowed brow and Sothis was being absolutely no help at all.

“Sorry about the captain,” Sylvain cut in breezily. “He can be spacey.” 

“Ah,” she said noncommittally. They sat there in unhurried silence a few moments longer, and it was enough time for her to think finally about what had become of her.

“Did we win?” she asked suddenly. It was strange how abstract the thought was, how long it had taken for her to even consider the outcome of the war. 

Sylvain goggled at her. “Did the Nabatean army win? You-- yes, you won. Holy shit, you won.” 

She nodded.

It was over. They had won. 

.

Before:

She was a captain. Sothis was her home, and her friend, always present in her mind. 

There was nothing before that. When she was a child—though she wasn’t a child for very long—she shadowed Seteth and spooked the crew, staring at them with wide blank eyes; at eleven she became their commander and led them into war.

Seteth was a steady, dependable ally; Rhea was kind and motherly, though she only ever called Byleth Sothis. 

She wasn’t unhappy. That emotion seemed to be reserved for other people; most of them did. She was blank and focused, with the occasional flash of happiness when Sothis spoke to her or vague satisfaction when a battle went well. 

The ship was her whole life. There was nothing else. 

.

Now she lay in a bunk on a tiny, vacant ship, a thousand years gone. Out of a porthole she could see the stars.  
“You know, solar systems’ suns aren’t really that much bigger than other stars,” Sothis said softly, idly. “They’re just closer.”

It wasn’t meant to comfort, or maybe it was. Byleth had never needed to be comforted before. She stared blankly through the glass. 

“Everyone else like us is gone,” she said out loud.

Sothis paused for a long time. “I don’t think there is anyone like us,” she said finally.

Byleth closed her eyes. She thought of nothing, focused on the feeling of the mattress soft against her back and the wool blanket tucked under her. It was pleasant. 

The war was over. She wasn’t a weapon anymore.

_What are we going to do now?_

Sothis didn’t answer. They watched the pinpricks of light all around them until they had gone to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the crazy lead time on this chapter! I got super stuck between the previous chapter and this one, but definitely still plan to keep updating. 
> 
> I added a few tags for minor relationships - most of them should be pretty background, but I'll add a note if this changes.
> 
> Thank you so much for checking this fic out! This chapter is a little short, but I plan to have another published soon.
> 
> (also, more sexual humor in this chapter/references to past consensual sex)

The third day after she woke up, Byleth climbed down the rickety ladder that led to the ship’s engine room and watched the tiny, red-haired mechanic putter about. 

She was clearly skilled and strangely cheerful-- she hummed to herself as Byleth waited to be noticed, her movements self-assured and buoyant. 

She didn’t notice Byleth by the end of the first song, nor the second, and when she started incorporating an odd little dance Byleth thought maybe it wasn’t going to happen. 

“Hi,” she called from her perch at the bottom of the ladder.

The engineer squeaked and whirled around, spluttering in shock. Byleth tilted her head in apology. “Sorry to startle you,” she started, but the woman had seemingly already recovered from her shock and was beaming at her, bouncing up and down on her feet.

“Oh! You’re the new passenger!” She stuck her hand out genially, clasping Byleth’s in a strong, enthusiastic grip. “I’m Annette, the mechanic! Sorry we haven’t met yet, I got wrapped up working on some fixes and I haven’t been out and about much.” She reached up to adjust a stray strand of coppery-orange hair.

Byleth blinked at the outpouring of enthusiasm, taking a moment to remember to introduce herself. “Byleth.” 

“Oh, It’s so great to meet you!” Annette tugged gently at her hair, faltering slightly. “The captain, um, told me… where you were from. I hope that’s alright.”

“That’s not a problem.” It was still unexpected, the hesitance with which the crew approached the subject of her history. “Actually, I was hoping to ask you about that, sort of. Could you tell me how the ship works?”

It was striking and a little comical how Annette’s face lit up so quickly at that, and she launched into a rapid-fire explanation with little prompting. Her excitable personality concealed a sharp, comprehensive knowledge of mechanics and engineering that impressed even Byleth. 

Byleth wasn’t much of a technical person; her connection to Sothis was more intuitive than intellectual, and vessels weren’t expected to maintain their ships’ mechanics. Still, she tried to make sense of Annette’s explanation.

The engine itself was much more streamlined than anything Byleth could have imagined, as were the tools and mechanisms scattered throughout the room. It was surreal, the hundred years of progress in front of her eyes. 

She scanned the room for an AI core and found nothing.

When Byleth looked up, Annette was studying her uncertainly. “There’s software to help navigate, and to monitor equipment, but, um. Nothing sentient. Not like what you had.”

“Why?” Byleth asked. 

“It’s not considered… ethical, anymore,” the mechanic said, her cheerful face solemn.

 _Ethical,_ Sothis said, voice pensive and slipping into one of those nuances of emotion that eluded Byleth. 

She felt her own brow furrow, the emotion easy enough to identify. Confusion. 

“Ethical?” she echoed.

Annette squirmed in place, the movement odd and endearing. “I’m so sorry, I don’t want to insult you or-- or your ship. I-- things are so different now, I’m not sure what to say.”

“Oh,” Byleth said blankly. “That’s okay.”

“Really?” Annette blinked up at her. “Oh, I’m so glad! I would feel terrible if I’d upset you!” She’d swung right back to bubbly, and Byleth found herself appreciating the woman’s strange nature. 

“So, have you met everyone on ship?” she continued. “I can introduce you, if you want!” 

“Briefly,” Byleth answered. “Except for the pilot. He’s been busy, I think.”

“Ugh.” Annette scowled theatrically. “That’s just Felix. He’s a jerk, you’re not missing much.”

There didn’t seem to be anything tactful to say to that, so Byleth ran a careful hand over the shiny metal of the ship’s innards and tried to picture it alive.

“I forgot to ask,” she said suddenly. “What’s her name?”

“The ship?” Annette asked. Byleth nodded. “Oh, it’s the Blue Lion!”

 _The Blue Lion._ It wasn’t a proper ship’s name, but this wasn’t quite a proper ship, in any case.

“Thank you,” Byleth said, unsure of exactly what she was acknowledging.

.

Before Byleth had even made it all the way up the ladder, Sothis piped up, snickering. “I am calling it right now, Byleth, the mechanic has a crush on the pilot.”

She’d spent much of the conversation in thoughtful silence. Sothis’ sudden caprice might have been jarring if it wasn’t so unfortunately in-character. 

“Oh, don’t deny it, I am correct. Remember Manuela and Hanneman?”

_What about them?_

“They were _fornicating,_ ” Sothis proclaimed, clearly pleased with herself. “Often.”

Byleth blinked. That was horrifying on _so many_ levels.

“Oh, don’t act so scandalized. You know as well as I do that I couldn’t invade their privacy, we didn’t have any visual data. I am _thoroughly_ decorous. I simply knew because they were astoundingly obvious.” Her tone trailed into something sad and reflective. “Quite a sweet couple, really.”

Byleth pictured her medic and lead research officer, dead for a thousand years. Kind people, not quite soldiers. She thought she might miss them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried not to make this too wordy; i'm not sure how well that worked out, but hey, it's a work in progress and i'm hoping to get a better handle on style as this goes. feel free to let me know if the prose is waaay too dense or if you have any other notes (feel free to criticize, just please dont completely destroy me, i have feelings)

**Author's Note:**

> i still don't totally know how to format fics so let me know if anything looks wonky or if i missed a tag/warning!


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